I don’t have kids. That makes it so easy to pick on people who do.
But that’s not why I am writing this. Quite the contrary; I am here to bow down and worship. I am here to ask those of you who have made the decision to fill your lives with small versions of yourselves, either by giving birth, adopting, or taking on the task of raising your grandkids: how in the %$!* do you do it? And how do you wind up doing it so well, for the most part?
We all read the stories about the horrible parents who abandon, neglect, hurt and kill their children. They are the ones who get the media attention. Rarely do the good ones get any press, though some very brave moms and dads who saved their children during the recent Midwest tornado outbreak have made the news.
Some of my friends had a little tongue-in-cheek fun today. They came up with a massive list called “I’m A Bad Parent Because…” Some of their admissions, true or not, would give anyone pause. Some would just provide a few hysterical fits of laughter:
- I’m a bad parent because I have no clue what my kids are supposed to be capable of at the ages they currently are (so tonight’s Parent/Teacher conference should be ever so fun).
- I’m a bad parent because my kids have learned to pronounce wine “vino” and they are excellent pourers.
- I’m a bad parent because I do have Pop Tarts in my pantry that they can have on occasion.
- I’m a bad parent because I will prepare frozen fish sticks and French fries for dinner in a pinch.
- I’m a bad parent because I allow my kids to ride their bikes around the neighborhood without driving slowly behind them in my car to make sure nobody snatches them.
- I am a very bad parent because at times I have fed my children Fruit Loops, Pop Tarts, donuts, Cheetos, potato chips, Ho-Hos, pizza, soda pop, red Kool Aid and McDonalds.
- I’m a bad parent because I remind her to use her real voice instead of the whiney/baby/whisper/shriek.
- I’m a bad parent because we start Mass in the church and I bribe her with donuts to behave until it’s over.
- I didn’t make all my own baby food from fresh organic seasonal locally grown products.
- While cutting teeth, my daughter liked to gnaw on the underside of my Dad’s beer can – and I laughed.
- I work. My husband works. They go to a licensed home care provider, so that, of course, means the day care provider’s husband is a pedophile.
- I require them to clean up after themselves.
- I’ve taught them how to play a few card games that require them to gamble some of their allowance..
- I’m a good enough mom to have breastfed – but I wanted my kids to remember what a great mom I was, so I started when they were five years old.
As I said, thought-provoking, mostly funny, and trust me, these folks love their kids for real. And from the writer with no kids to those of you who barely have time to read this because your lives are completely whacked out – thanks. Now raise them right and make sure they find employment and earn enough to take care of all their own needs until death. I plan to be around long enough to use up whatever’s left of Social Security and Medicare.